


Deeds Undone

by epkitty



Series: What We Do [2]
Category: Tin Man
Genre: M/M, Past Non-Con, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do Glitch and Cain reconcile what happened in the R.B. Lounge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeds Undone

The time that followed their descent into the under realm passed so quickly, Cain barely had time to think about it. And then came planning and celebrations, drinking long into the night and talking in wide courtrooms, sleeping like the dead and rising from sheer force of will in the morning.

And still Cain haunted himself with what had happened. Every look he cast at Glitch held a question.

But Glitch’s vacant smiles never held an answer.

It finally occurred to Cain that – what with everything else – the headcase must have forgotten.

Not only that, but things had settled into a routine without Cain even noticing.

He had quarters in the royal palace – the one in the city that looked a little more polished every day – and more possessions than he’d ever had occasion to own accumulated in them. He knew courtroom etiquette now, and he no longer flinched at the idea of speaking to a large group of people, whether at a hearing before a harsh panel of judges or a toast in the Grand Hall. He didn’t complain at the finery he was forced to wear, and he didn’t correct people anymore when they called him ‘my lord.’

He was respected now, and he had more responsibilities than could reasonably be entrusted to one individual. And somehow he managed. He’d known he could be strong. But he’d learned too, on more than one heart-breaking occasion, that he could also be terribly weak.

Then, one day, in the middle of a speech being delivered by the Queen, Cain stood up from the long table of counselors and said, “Sorry, I can’t do this anymore,” and left.

He was not surprised when D.G. banged down his door an hour later. He had let her in, suspecting she might have the guards break down the door, and he’d already made enough trouble for one day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Cain had been packing. He was back in his old clothes and his eyes had regained their old ferocity. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“You can’t just _leave_. Cain, people _need_ you here.”

“No, they don’t.”

“I need you here.”

He found a smile to offer her. “No, you don’t.”

She crossed her arms with regal purpose over her frilly princess-dress and glared. She looked ridiculous.

“And you haven’t got anything else, have you?” he asked, pulling the drawstring of his bag closed and slinging it over his shoulder. “I _was_ needed here. I needed to protect you from the riots and the longcoats and I needed to stand by Azkadellia’s side when the people turned on her. I needed to escort the Queen to court, and I needed to listen to Ahamo’s troubled whispers. I needed to testify on Tutor’s behalf and I needed – of all things – to _liase_ with the munchkins. Then people found other things that I needed to do. And I did them. But it’s done now. No more dressing me up like a fop or parading me down the streets of Central City Square. I’ve said my piece and I’ve paid my dues, and I’m done being told what to do because, D.G., no one needs me here anymore.”

“And Glitch?”

The air grew hushed, and then Cain’s bag hit the floor.

“Shit.”

“He needs a friend now more than ever. And he likes you best.”

“He likes me best?” Cain echoed, a little incredulous.

She shrugged. “What he said exactly was, ‘I’m lucky. I don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have are everything I need. Cain’s my best friend, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever had one before.’” She said every word carefully, like reciting a meaningful verse of poetry, careful to get every word right.

His emotions were rising to the surface, and Cain didn’t like it, not one little bit. “He said that?”

D.G. nodded. “Mm-hmm. He said it the day after… the day after we won. And it’s not the kind of thing you forget.”

Cain laughed. “It’s not the kind of thing you forget. Glitch doesn’t even remember to put his shoes on.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

D.G. threw her hands up in exasperation. “You underestimate him all the time.”

Cain grew suddenly serious. “I don’t.”

“Well, you need to talk to him before you decide to go anywhere.”

It was the first time he agreed with her all day.

= = = = =

Cain thought – absurdly – that the walk to Glitch’s rooms should have lasted longer. Of course, it didn’t. His rooms were next to Cain’s. Cain just thought all the emotion bubbling up would weigh him down enough to make it a slow, thoughtful walk. He was there in less than ten strides, fighting the knowledge that for so long he’d been so busy thinking, he hadn’t had time to feel. He was paying the price now.

Memories played through his mind like… like a hologram in front of a man trapped in a tin suit.

He didn’t need the suit, he knew. The mind itself was prison enough, and for that reason, he knocked on the door. Because his own mind would never be as much of a prison as Glitch’s was.

It took a long time for the door to open. But Cain had learned to be patient with Glitch. He could hear the zipperhead on the other side of the door, flailing about and muttering to himself. When the door opened, Cain received a brilliant smile.

Glitch immediately slammed the door in his face, and then opened it again. “Sorry! Forgot to invite you in first! Come in, Cain!”

Cain stepped into the room. As usual, it looked as though a travel storm had blown through. Azkadellia occasionally sent a maid or two in to try to right things, but it never lasted.

Clothes were strewn across the room, bedclothes pulled from the mattress, curtains hanging precariously from shiny golden curtain rods. There were broken bits of machinery and tools scattered across the desk and bookshelves; Glinda only knew what Glitch thought he was doing with them.

The man stood there looking at him, playing with the cuffs of his fancy frock coat, continually pulling them further down over his wrist where the brand on his forearm often peeked out. Glitch sometimes remembered to ask the tailors to make the sleeves longer, but they were never quite long enough. “Hey, Cain.” His bubbling enthusiasm seemed to dwindle. “I hear you’re leaving.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“You made a scene, I hear.”

“Mm. D.G. talked some sense into me.”

“Oh!” Glitch brightened immediately. “You’re not going, then?”

“Well, maybe,” Cain hedged, brilliant eyes flashing about the room, avoiding Glitch’s too pale face. “I had to come talk to you, first.”

“Oh.” Glitch looked puzzled. It was a familiar expression. “Why?”

Cain fought to make his answer sound natural, not because it wasn’t true, but just because it was very hard for him to say. “You’re my best friend. I couldn’t just… leave.”

“Oh Cain!” Glitch threw his arms about broad shoulders and squeezed him tight.

It was the closest they’d been in a long time.

Cain hugged him back, fondly and a just a little shaky.

Glitch finally remembered to release him, stepped back, and then looked puzzled again. “Why are you here?”

Cain fought to keep from frowning and had to look away again. He had grown used to starting conversations over and over again when he talked to Glitch. If nothing else, it had given him lots of practice. “Are you ready for the operation?”

Glitch forced a smile that was clearly false. “People keep asking me that.”

Something occurred to Cain then, something he’d never considered before. “Glitch… do you want to do this?”

“Oh…” Then he had one of his rare, lucid moments, a time when Cain got a glimpse of who Ambrose used to be. “I do feel a certain obligation, not only to Queen and country, but to myself…”

“But, do you want it?”

Glitch just looked at him, lost.

“Whatever your decision is, I’ll stand by you.”

“You’re the first one,” Glitch said, “to make it sound like a choice at all.”

“Of course you have a choice, Glitch! It’s your body! It’s your brain!”

Glitch laughed, high-pitched and unnatural. “Cain! It’s been so long since I had a choice about anything.” And then he started crying.

“Aw, dammit,” Cain muttered, drawing him in close to pull the zippered head to his strong chest. He knew Glitch was right, and it pained him; it hurt him more than he’d let himself hurt in a long time.

Glitch sobbed and sobbed until it was all bled out, and then pulled himself back, smiled through his tears, a true, blinding smile and said, “Thanks, Cain.”

One thing to be said about Glitch: he was resilient.

Cain shook his head. “You okay, now?”

“Yeah! I… you know, when they took half my brain away, it was the worst thing that could come to pass. I should be glad to get it back.”

“‘Should be?’”

“But I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t think I want to remember any more than I already do. I don’t even know if I’ll remember _anything_! Taking a brain out is a lot easier than putting it back in. You don’t have to be a genius to know that. Sometimes I think I have enough memories to last… even if they do come and go.”

“Come and go?”

Glitch nodded and then turned to wander the room. He happened upon his bed as though by accident and sat upon it, swinging his feet. “Like right now, there are things I know I don’t remember… but I do remember meeting D.G. for the first time, even if I don’t always. And I remember so many good things.” He looked sad and profoundly thankful. “And bad things. And that’s what makes a life. Maybe, I don’t need more. Or less. And if things go wrong, it will be so much less… But if things go right, it will be so much more. More than I can handle, or maybe more will be good. More will be just what the O.Z. needs. To have Ambrose back again.”

“That’s… a lot to think about.” Cain slowly approached him and sat beside him on the bed.

Glitch smiled absently. “What?”

Cain shook his head. “A lot to think about.”

Glitch abruptly blushed.

“What?”

“Oh. I remember now… Choices. And memories… And I think about the way you touched me…”

Cain’s eyes widened of their own accord and he looked momentarily ridiculous. “Wh-huh?”

“In the Realm of the Unwanted… we didn’t really have choices there, either.”

Cain had trouble swallowing and coughed on his own spit before he gathered himself again. “I thought… you forgot. Completely.”

“Sometimes, it’s all I think about.” Glitch smiled at him again, a little shy.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed to stick in my mind, more than some things.” He shuddered, and drew his hands into himself, as though hiding something. Then he slowly pushed up his sleeve to look at the brand on his skin. “You saw me… More than anyone else. Anyone else who cares. They… they don’t know. The doctors know, the people in the bad places know… but now you know…” He breathed a harsh sigh and shook his head, pulling the sleeve down. “I don’t want to—”

Cain reached out carefully. He usually had trouble following Glitch’s sketchy trains of thought, and this was no exception. But this time he couldn’t make a single mistake. He had to stay right at Glitch’s side, right in his head, and say the right things. He knew he did. He gently shifted Glitch’s arm away from the angular body all curled in on itself.

“We can’t undo what’s been done to us,” Cain murmured, pushing the sleeve up again, rubbing his thumb over the number branded into Glitch’s skin, “the things we did…”

“If that’s true, then why talk about them?”

“Because… I have to say I’m sorry about what I had to do, especially when it didn’t turn out to matter.”

Biting his lip, hesitating as though fearful of approaching an untamed dog, Glitch drew his arm back so he could slip his hand into Cain’s. “I’ve been hurt… a lot worse.”

Cain felt his throat grow thick and his tongue heavy. “I know. …Why didn’t you fight back? The way you fought the longcoats?” Cain’s voice was tremulous in his effort to speak quietly, sanely, softly.

“I couldn’t.”

“You could’ve!”

“But, I didn’t know that.”

“But you fought when you had to, when they were coming for us.”

Glitch shrugged, holding Cain’s hand tightly. “Maybe I never thought I was worth fighting for. I was just a convict, after all. A headcase… Fighting for other people though. That I could do.”

Cain didn’t realize what he was doing until he did it, kissing the back of a pale hand, a pale hand dirty and trembling.

Glitch watched, awed.

Cain lowered the hand, pulled the sleeve back again. He looked at the brand burned into the arm, the careful little numbers. He turned his head one way to examine it, and then the other. “It’s not that bad,” he said, touching his forefinger to it in a slow caress.

“Um… Cain?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was thinking…” he said, still inspecting the brand, “maybe we _can_ … undo what was done to us.” He looked up to wide, dark eyes. “What they made us do.”

“Heh, I haven’t invented anything that could do that,” he said, joking, and then the smile faded. “At least, I don’t think so…”

While Glitch’s eyebrows drew together in concentration, Cain ducked his head down before the thoughtful face to kiss worried lips. “Maybe we’re more than friends, Glitch.” He had trouble swallowing again. “Maybe we did what we had to, because that’s the kind of men we are, or maybe because that was the only poor way for us to figure it out.” Cain wondered why his voice sounded so rough and whispery. “Maybe my heart’s not as broken as I thought. And maybe you aren’t broken at all. Maybe we’re just right the way we are, and even better together.” He’d gotten so good at speaking, and it had suddenly become so hard. “Maybe that’s what we have to do to chase the memories away… make new memories.” He relied on his hypothetical maybes in case he was wrong, like he could ever take these words back. He knew he couldn’t. “What do you think?”

“Maybe… you’re right?” Glitch asked with a little smile that danced in his eyes.

“Maybe?”

“Not maybe,” Glitch answered, kissing him with ungainly passion. “I love you, Cain.” He was excited, bouncing up and down on the bed like a child thrilled at discovering something about the world all by himself. “I know I do.”

Cain smiled. “I…” He kissed Glitch for courage. “I love you, too.”

“Cain! Let’s be happy together!”

“Okay,” Cain said, laughing because it was impossible not to. “Easier said than done, but okay.”

“So how do we undo it? How do we change what happened?”

“Like this,” Cain said, framing Glitch’s eager face in careful, callused hands and kissing him like he’d been wanting to all this time.

Glitch made funny little noises in his throat, ‘mm’s and ‘hmm’s and ‘uh’s. He couldn’t even kiss without remarking upon it, albeit without words.

Cain’s fingers worked into the strange softness of the loopy hair, even found the sharp little teeth of the metal zipper.

Glitch almost pulled away.

“S’okay,” Cain told him, kissing him still, kissing his mouth in every way he knew, and some he just made up, long and slow or little fluttering kisses, tugging at the lower lip until Glitch softened and strengthened all at once, not pulling away but pulling him in.

Cain slid his hands down, easing the shining frock coat over narrow shoulders.

Glitch let him, pulled his arms through so he could return the favor, gracelessly pushing at Cain’s gray duster until Cain shrugged it off, letting if slip to the floor. He kissed along all the funny angles of Glitch’s face, the sharp nose and chin, all the little places: the corner of an eye, the straight jaw, the curving shell of an ear. “This is the way I’ll remember it,” he promised. “In your cluttered room, on your messy bed. Slowly.”

“Slowly,” Glitch echoed, his eyes closed, kissing whatever he could reach, and then discovering Cain’s neck and all the intricate curves of it made by stretching muscles and tendons under tanned and sweating skin. Glitch licked little kitten licks all over the straining neck. Then, in quiet desperation for more, his nervous fingers worried at the little bone buttons of Cain’s white shirt until he could kiss all the way down.

All this worship gradually forced Cain to lie back on the bed, one foot still hanging of the bed as the other leg lay folded on the rumpled bedspread, pressed down by Glitch’s slight weight.

Cain squirmed and never stopped touching Glitch’s hair, occasionally brushing the cold metal zipper. Glitch didn’t seem to mind.

“My turn,” Cain said, sitting up to slide out of the shirt and reach for Glitch’s face again. Kissing, kissing, he kissed the pale face now flushed and smiling as those creeping fingers explored his chest and Cain’s clever fingers slipped the long series of black buttons from their holes down the length of Glitch’s silk shirt. He pulled back to watch Glitch’s face as the sleeves slid from long, wiry arms.

Glitch bowed his head as though to hide behind the crazy curls. Then he shrugged and smiled and reached out to test the skin of Cain’s Tin Man tattoo, tracing the black axe curling around the ox-strong upper arm. “Did it hurt?”

“Nah. Captain got me drunk first.”

Glitch laughed and traced the scar that cut across the defined collarbone. “What’s this?”

“Knife fight.”

“Did you lose?”

“Oh, no. Close call though.”

Glitch caressed Cain’s toned chest in wonder. “There’s nothing here,” he said.

At first, Cain thought Glitch was talking about his heart. Then he pressed Glitch’s warm hand to the very spot where the bullet hit. “It was just a bruise.”

“Can I?” Glitch asked, reaching for Cain’s belt.

“Yeah.”

Cain let the clumsy fingers work the belt. He could be patient. Glitch had taught him that.

The belt slithered out, fell to the floor. Cain laughed when Glitch tried to pull the pale pants off over his boots. Cain eagerly shucked off his shoes and the rest of his clothes until he sat bare on the bed and let Glitch explore him with shaking hands and testing lips and widened eyes.

Glitch carefully pressed the thigh where the papay bite showed in a strange, pale white pattern.

“Feels weird,” Cain said. “It’s still numb.”

“That’s from where the nerves were severed,” Glitch said absently, still brushing his fingers up and down. “I remember…” Glitch turned onto his knees to crawl around the bed to look at Cain’s back. “These lines,” he said of the quilted pattern burned into Cain’s lower back.

“Ah, those,” Cain said, “Those hurt like a mother-fucker. Still do, sometimes.”

Glitch’s fingers were butterfly light. “How did it happen?”

“Back when Azkadellia’s forces were taking over. There was a raid at a hideout of loyal Tin Men. We’d been betrayed. A lot of good men died that night. …Anyway, the, uh, the metal screen in front of the fireplace got knocked into the burning logs, and, well, I ended up on top of it.”

Glitch bent down to kiss the pattern of strange lines altering pale and brown over the tan skin.

Cain slowly turned. He kissed Glitch’s lips and the man fell back onto the bed, pulling Cain over him. They laughed and touched one another gently, taking the time to look long and deep into one another’s eyes, studying the secrets and emotions there until there was nothing more to hide.

Cain made sure there were no shoes in the way – and, indeed, Glitch had forgotten his shoes that day – before he stripped away wide-legged black slacks, along with what was under them.

“I’m not,” Glitch said, “like you.”

Cain smiled, hiding his teeth. “Why would you be? You’re you.”

“Oh.” That made as much sense to Glitch as anything.

“Now,” Cain said, as they lay side by side on the bed, facing one another, pillows and covers strewn all around them. Cain pressed a gentle finger to the end of Glitch’s zipper, right at his forehead. He traced a line straight down his face, between the eyes, along the nose, flicking over the lips, and right over the pointed chin. Down the neck, which tickled – Cain could tell – and drifted over to an ugly, webbing scar on Glitch’s shoulder. “What’s this?” Cain asked, whisper-gentle.

“Ah, oh… One of the longcoats that took me up to the operation room… he had an electrobaton, except it was different from the others, with a point at the end.”

Cain’s smile slipped away as his eyes drifted over similar scars scattered across the pale body. “You mean he…”

Glitch shrugged. “I wasn’t very cooperative.”

Cain’s brow knitted together in a frown as his hand drifted lower to a finely delineated scar low on Glitch’s right side. “And this?”

“An experiment. They took out my appendix.”

“What’s an appendix?”

Glitch only smiled.

Cain’s hand danced to the other side. “And here?”

“And they removed part of my spleen, and uh… oh what was the other one… pancreas. They put something else in… I don’t know what.”

“You don’t know…?”

Glitch looked up, his eyes twinkling. “Well, whatever it is, it hasn’t bothered me yet.”

“That’s very judicious of you, Glitch.” Cain marveled at the creature before him and his hand drifted lower to a series of short scars along the abdomen that shuddered under his touch. “What are these?”

“They attached monitors to my lymph nodes.”

Cain’s fingers coasted down the crease between belly and thigh where a raised line of skin felt oddly textured under his fingers. “And this?”

Glitch looked down to examine it. “I don’t remember.”

“Oh, Glitch,” Cain breathed out, kissing him again, and kissing him and kissing him.

Their hands skimmed over flesh tanned and pale as though to smooth away the scars, as if they could leave clean skin in the wake of loving fingers.

And “I love you” and “I love you,” they said between kisses, kisses sweet and loving, and long and pure.

They held one another and grasped one another and finally surged together like a tireless sea.

They touched one another at turns, stroking with a sure and amorous grip. They kissed all the time, and then pulled one another closer, thrusting into the smooth hardness of taut bellies, reaching down to help one another along as they whispered and smiled and loved.

Cain made Glitch come first, scraping his teeth along the pale arching neck and holding him tight.

The headcase stiffened and sighed and smiled and returned the favor, milking the hard shaft as he snuck in a pinch to a pert nipple, surprising Cain into an abrupt orgasm.

Then they laughed and cleaned one another up, cuddled close under the haphazard covers, side by side, looking at the mural painted on the ceiling above them. They sighed, hugged, and grew quiet.

Glitch finally asked, “What are you going to do now?”

“Um.” Cain turned to look at deep, dark eyes. “I’m gonna stay with you.”

“And?”

“I’ll figure out the rest later. And you? Are you going to get the operation?”

“Dunno. Do you want me to?”

“I’m afraid,” Cain confessed.

“Me, too.”

“Then we’ll decide later.”   
“Mm-hmm. Good idea. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Now that’s a good idea,” Cain agreed, kissing the unruly curls, the flushed lips, and drawing the covers up over their heads, so the light filtered through, dusty and butter yellow. “I’m going to remember this for a very long time.”

“But, um, I might forget,” Glitch pointed out. “So, we should do it again.”

“Oh, often,” Cain agreed with a flashing smile under the sheet.

“Well, right away!” Glitch said.

Cain laughed. “Maybe not ‘right away.’ You’re the one who taught me to be patient, Glitch.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now it’s my turn. You said, ‘let’s go to sleep,’ and I need a nap.”

“A nap?”

“Yeah. And some food. Later. First,” he kissed him, “Let’s sleep.”

“Just like this?”

“Just like this,” Cain promised with a kiss.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
